


Lady Saman'tha

by Calantha2001



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24549859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calantha2001/pseuds/Calantha2001
Summary: A case of mistaken identity on a planet run by a matriarchal society means Carter has to prove she owns her male teammates before they're sold as slaves.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Lady Saman'tha

**Author's Note:**

> A plot bunny gifted me the image of Jack and Daniel chained up, naked, and Carter trying to retrieve them. Had to write the story to figure out why, and how she succeeded.

Jack O’Neill finished his perimeter check of the nearest forested area and returned to Daniel, where the archaeologist was sitting cross-legged in front of a pile of rocks in the open meadow.

“So, Daniel, any idea yet if these are natural or man-made?”

Daniel pulled the bandana off his head and wiped the back of his neck. “I’m not sure.” He tied the bandana back on, low to protect his neck from sunburn. The temperature in the shaded forest line was comfortable, but the sun was a little warm out in the open. Daniel raised one hand and traced some of the markings on the top stone, which was balanced on top of three others. It was the third such stack of rocks on this side of the valley. “The rock formations don’t seem to be an accident of nature, but I don’t recognize these markings. They’re worn enough there are no visible markings from tools. I’d need Sam to analyze the type of rock to see if this is just part of its natural striations, or if someone marked these a really long time ago.”

Jack keyed his mic. “Carter, report.”

“Sir, we found three more formations similar to those on your side of the hill. Still collecting samples.”

As Carter spoke, Jack scanned the tree line again out of habit. Movement at the edge of his peripheral vision caught his attention. He peered intently, but saw nothing else. Maybe the wind had moved a tree branch? But he felt no breeze.

“How much more time do you need to finish getting your samples?”

They had been on the planet about three hours, and were at the limit of the UAV reconnaissance range. They hadn’t seen any buildings or other signs of human habitation. Just a few narrow trails through the meadow and wooded areas, which Teal’c thought were animal trails. One of the paths paralleled a stream that flowed downhill.

There, off to his left. The tall grass moved, but again Jack felt no breeze. One of the critters that had made the trail, maybe?

“Ideally, sir, I’d like at least another half hour.”

Jack hated having his team split up, but had allowed Carter to go down to the valley on one side of the ridge with Teal’c, while Jack accompanied Daniel to the valley on the other side. They were less than half a mile apart, separated by the low ridge, and the Stargate was only a couple miles back over easy terrain. But still…

“Make it five minutes, Major.”

Daniel had been photographing marks on the rocks but he glanced up at Jack in surprise, and got to his knees to take another look around the area. “Your Spidey sense tingling, Jack?” he said softly.

“Sir? Is anything wrong?”

Jack did a slow 360, trying to take in every detail of their surroundings. Gut instincts had saved his life too many times to dismiss them, even when there was no rational explanation ... at least at first. He didn’t even tease Carter about her occasional flashes of woman’s intuition. He tightened his grip on the rifle clipped to his vest. “Something’s hinky.”

Daniel grabbed his backpack and started stuffing in his camera, notebooks, brushes, and other tools.

Sam exchanged a worried glance with Teal’c. They immediately began gathering all her sample containers and tools and shoving them into her backpack. “Leaving now, sir.”

Teal’c hastily zipped her pack shut, clipped it to the back of her vest, picked up his staff weapon, and they set off at a trot up the hill toward their teammates. They had nearly reached the crest when they heard a strangled “Jack!”

Teal’c and Carter dropped and crawled to the peak on their bellies and peered down into the valley.

Colonel O’Neill was sprawled facedown, motionless. Daniel was running toward him from the far side of the rock formation, but suddenly stopped and swatted at his nape. He pulled something out from his neck, stared at it, and toppled to the ground in a graceless heap.

Sam fought the urge to cry out, to run down the hill. Teal’c’s hand on her arm reminded her to wait.

Daniel had barely hit the ground when four women appeared seemingly out of nowhere, stepping out from the trees and standing up from the tall grass. They were human, or at least humanoid looking. They wore identical short-sleeved yellow tunics that reached almost to their knees, and carried something that looked like a rifle. One of the women aimed hers at O’Neill and Daniel, two scanned the surrounding area, while another gestured toward a nearby clump of trees. Two more women soon emerged from the woods with a large covered cart.

The scene unfolding in the valley was about three hundred yards from Sam’s position. They were too far away to be of help to Daniel and the Colonel without endangering themselves, not to mention the risk to their teammates if their shots were not perfect. Sam glanced at Teal’c, letting her frustration show.

“Wait,” he said silently.

Sam nodded. The sun beat down. Sweat trickled down her back and temples, but she held still and watched, waiting for an opportunity, searching for any opening.

One of the women knelt and picked up Daniel’s left hand and pushed up his sleeve. She turned his arm this way and that, and repeated the examination to his other arm, then pulled off his bandana and peered closely at his face. She frowned, then examined the Colonel the same way. She exchanged words with one of the others, who came over to help.

The women in the yellow tunics had seemed tall even from this distance, but Sam’s eyes widened in shock as she watched two of them pick up the Colonel with no more effort than if they were handling a sleeping child, and deposited him in the cart. They soon had Daniel in the cart as well as all their gear, then lowered the cover and locked it, sealing the men inside.

Sam tensed, ready to follow the cart, when Teal’c raised his staff weapon and pointed it to his right.

“Show yourself,” he said, his voice low but intense.

A boy of about twelve moved out from the clump of trees off to their right and came closer, staying low to the ground. “You are not from Zenobium,” he said, his voice filled with awe. He wore a one-shouldered tunic in off-white that barely hit him mid-thigh. The rough homespun fabric was matched by the rough weave of the rope belted around his waist, and plain sandals with straps that tied around his ankles.

“No, we’re visitors.” Sam moved downhill a little and rose to her knees. She pointed her thumb over the crest of the hill. “Do you know where they’re taking our friends?”

“You are female!” The boy’s eyes grew round and he suddenly dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Forgive me, Mistress. I meant no disrespect to address you without permission. I have never before seen a mistress dress the same as her selvas.”

Sam looked at Teal’c and mouthed “Selvas?”

He shrugged and addressed the boy. “Mistress will forgive your indiscretion if you answer her question,” he said in his First Prime voice.

The boy risked a glance up but quickly lowered his gaze to the ground. “The Patrol collects runaway and lost selvas, and takes them to Lost And Found in Zenobium.”

“They weren’t lost or runaways,” Carter said. “We need to get them back from the patrol.”

“But you can’t!” The boy looked at Carter and Teal’c, then addressed the ground in front of them. “The Patrol cannot release selvas they have collected. You have to claim them from the Precept.”

“Our friends are not selvas,” Teal’c said.

“How do we claim them from the, what did you call it? Precept?” Carter heard the rumble of the cart move away on the other side of the ridge, and was torn between racing after her teammates to keep them in sight, and getting more intel from the native boy.

He finally dared look at her. “You truly are not from Zenobium, are you?”

“We are not.”

“We’re going to need more information.” Sam flashed her most charming, disarming smile. “Can you help us?”

“Of course it is my pleasure to serve a Mistress. Even one who is not from Zenobium.”

The cart got farther away, and soon Sam couldn’t hear it at all. She forced a smile to her face and prayed she’d made the right decision. “We don’t have a Precept where we’re from. Or perhaps we do but we know it by a different name. Please tell me more about how we can get back our companions.”

“And explain what is a selva,” Teal’c added.

The boy looked shocked. “A selva? But, but you are a selva! I am a selva. All males are selvas. We live to serve our Mistress.”

Sam schooled her features to hide her shock. Serve? “Why didn’t they collect you as a runaway?” They’d both been listening and watching, and so far there was no indication of the boy’s mistress nearby.

“Because I bear the mark of my mistress.” He held out his left arm. There on his inner forearm was a mark Carter had noticed but thought was a scar, but could now see was a stylized M, or maybe a Greek Sigma, etched into his skin. A brand. The boy had been branded. Sam fought to keep her face neutral instead of recoiling in horror at a society that would brand a child.

“Just as you bear the mark of your mistress on your forehead.” The boy gestured at the gold symbol on Teal’c’s forehead. “The Patrol did not see your mark on your selvas, so they are considered runaways.” He tucked his arm back to his side. “And, and because they know me. I am on an errand for my mistress, one I do every third cycle.”

Carter sat back on her heels. “Okay, how do I get my … selvas … back from the Precept?”

“Prove your claim to them at the gola in Zenobium. That is where runaways are held until their mistress can be located and come to collect them. If you have not marked your selvas, the Precept will want some proof of your ownership. Documents showing your purchase exchange, perhaps.”

Carter fell onto her butt. Prove she **owned** the Colonel and Daniel? She exchanged a dismayed look with Teal’c.

“The Precept here does not like to give back selvas. She prefers to sell them at the lost and found auction. And, begging pardon, Mistress, you will have a hard time convincing her you are wealthy enough to own one, let alone three selvas, if you are dressed the same as them.” He gestured at the green BDUs Carter was wearing, identical to Teal’c’s uniform, then quickly ducked his head again.

“This attire is customary where we come from. But for Zenobium, what should I wear instead?”

The boy shook his head, his shoulder-length sandy blonde hair brushing his shoulders. “I am not sure.” He suddenly raised his face. “But I know someone who would!” He quickly ducked his head again.

“Your mistress?”

“No! Well, she would, but we should ask Drayad. He is nearby and ancient. He will know what you need to do.”

Teal’c rose to his full imposing height and again used his First Prime voice. “Take us to Drayad.”

Carter stood up, and the boy stood also, still keeping his gaze down. “Please,” she added.

The boy seemed taken aback by her soft plea, smiled shyly, and began to lead the way. They walked along the ridge, gradually descending into the valley, coming around the corner near where Daniel and the Colonel had been working when they were abducted. Soon the footpath widened enough for a cart, and the wild meadows and clumps of trees gave way to farm fields. Several workers were visible in the fields, some wearing short tunics like the boy, others dressed solely in what could only be called a mini-skirt, and others were entirely nude. No tan lines. All were male. A few glanced their way then quickly went back to work. Carter tried not to stare.

A magnificent house was visible in the distance, but here there were various outbuildings, mostly shacks and barns. At one of the shacks the boy knocked on the door. “Drayad, it’s me, Olen.”

The door opened on creaking hinges, and a wizened old man appeared. Carter had a flashback to Colonel O’Neill on Argos, when he’d been infected by nanites and aged decades in days. This guy looked to be about eighty. Stooped with age, he was still taller than Teal’c.

“Olen, back so soon? Did you forget something?”

Olen stepped aside and gestured at Teal’c and Carter. “Drayad, these visitors have need of your wisdom.”

*****

Jack tried to wake up. Reaching consciousness was exhausting, like he was swimming up through a pool of molasses.

The room swayed and his body rocked from side to side. No, not a room. Some kind of conveyance. Whatever he was in, it was in motion. He was pretty sure his eyes were open but he couldn’t see anything. The last thing he remembered was a sting to the back of his neck and the ground rising up to smack him in the face.

His team!

He reached out his arms. His right hand banged into something hard, maybe the side of the vehicle. Ouch. More gingerly he explored with his left, and touched a body, or at least the ribs under a jacket. He slid his hand up higher, past the shoulder, and felt razor stubble on a jaw. So, not Carter. Kept going up, and felt glasses. “Daniel?” He shook the shoulder, but got only a groan in response. Sounded like Daniel’s groan, though.

The molasses won, and sleep claimed Jack again.

*****

Carter tried to focus on Drayad’s creased face when he spoke, not his sagging crepey skin, so much skin, exposed by his short, dark brown one-shouldered tunic. The belt at his waist was soft yellow fabric, and his sandals looked much more comfortable than Olen’s footwear.

“The mistresses here like to display their wealth,” Drayad was saying. “You will never convince the Precept that you own those selvas if you dress the same as those who serve you, and, beg pardon, Mistress, in such drab colors.” He sat at the small table in the one-room shack, cutting into what looked like a wheel of cheese. He’d already cut a rustic loaf of bread into pieces and placed them on a wooden platter. Carter sat on the only other chair in the room, across the table from Drayad. Teal’c stood behind and to the side of his mistress, as Olen had subtly indicated, while the boy knelt beside Drayad.

“Boy, fetch some water.” The words seemed harsh, but Drayad ruffled Olen’s hair before the youth grabbed a bucket by the door and went outside.

“Another problem is that you conceal too much.” Drayad gestured at their clothing. “The Precept will not trust you, with so much hidden.” He placed the cheese hunks on the platter and slid it toward Carter. “Please, eat.”

Carter nodded her thanks and took a tiny bite of what tasted like goat cheese. She hated goat cheese.

Olen returned with a bucket of water, and poured some into the only two cups in the food preparation area. ‘Kitchen’ was too kind of a description. He placed the cups with reverence on the table, and returned to kneeling beside Drayad.

The Colonel’s voice rang in her head, warning about sticking only to rations. Who knew what pathogens lurked in the water. “I appreciate your kindness,” she said, pushing the cup toward Olen. “My stomach can be finicky, however, so when we travel I only partake of the food and drink we bring from home.” She took a sip from her canteen. When she finished, Teal’c did the same from his.

Olen looked questioningly at Drayad, and at the elder’s nod, the boy gulped down the cup of water. He refilled his cup and topped off Drayad’s before resuming his spot on the floor.

Carter had been puzzling over Drayad’s words, thinking about the skimpy garments these two wore, and what she’d seen of the workers in the field as well as the women in the Patrol. “Do you mean I need to cover less of my body?” She touched her jacket’s long sleeve.

“Yes, Mistress. In Zenobium, honesty is valued above most other traits. Concealment is not allowed.”

Okay, she could do this. “Do you have any pictures of what other mistresses in Zenobium wear? The only females I’ve seen were those in the Patrol, and they were a long ways off.”

“Pictures? Oh, images. Yes, I have images.” He shuffled to a cupboard between the fireplace and the bed, and brought out a sheaf of papers bound with leather laces. Olen pushed aside the cloth over the window by the door, spilling more light into the shack, making it easier to see the papers. Each sheet had an image of Drayad, going back many years to him as a handsome young man. In each image was a child -- a baby in his arms, a toddler at his side, or a youth standing beside him. One of them was a much smaller Olen, smiling with two missing front teeth. Each image also had two women with Drayad – one changed in each image, but the other remained constant.

“My mistress,” Drayad said proudly, pointing to the woman who was in all of the pictures, aging like Drayad from a young woman to a senior citizen.

“My mistress,” Olen said, a touch of awe in his voice.

Teal’c leaned over Carter’s shoulder to get a look. “Are these your children, Drayad?”

Carter did a double-take. Holy Hannah.

“These are my offspring. My service as breeder was much in demand when I was younger.” He fingered some of the pages. “Not every mehtehr was willing to come back and show us the results, but these did.” He looked at Carter with a twinkle in his green eyes. “Mistress was quite pleased with the profits I earned for her. And my stock did so well, I was kept as a breeder for many season cycles after most breeders are sent to serve in the fields.”

Carter flipped back to the image with young Olen, and pointed at the other female. “Who is she?”

“My mehtehr,” Olen said softly. “I was sad to leave her, but happy to learn the mistress she sold me to owned my pahtehr.”

Drayad ruffled the boy’s hair again. Now Carter could see the family resemblance.

“Your mistress made you have sex with these women?” She knew slavery wasn’t a pleasant experience but she was still horrified.

Drayad looked confused. “Sex … I do not know this word.”

“How are the offspring created?” Teal’c said.

Drayad’s confused expression cleared. “My mistress would broker with mehtehrs -- those who wish to breed and raise selvas. She would then extract the seed of life from me and implant the mehtehr.”

Extract the seed of life. Drayad didn’t seem distressed by his experiences. In fact, he seemed to have enjoyed it. Sam shook her head and tried to focus on the reason they were looking at the pictures – to see what the women wore. Or more accurately, didn’t wear. “That’s, um, that’s a lot of skin on display. And a lot of jewelry.” They were dressed as gaudily as Goa’ulds, dripping with jewels, precious metals, and bright colors on what little fabric was visible. Cher at the Oscars would fit right in.

“To conceal is not allowed,” Drayad said. “And I did say the mistresses like to display their wealth.”

They sat down to discuss more details, of how to approach the gola, the attitude Carter would need to have, and her wardrobe options. She and Teal’c decided they needed wardrobe assistance from the SGC. At Drayad’s urging, she took off her jacket and switched her black t-shirt for the light brown spare t-shirt in her pack. Tealc removed his jacket, and cut his pant legs off above the knee. Then they set off for the Stargate. Olen guided them partway, but had to go back to his home. He’d already taken much longer than usual for his errand to deliver supplies to Drayad.

*****

Rough hands grabbed Jack and lifted him up high in the air, as easily as if he was a child, and set him on the ground. Cool and smooth beneath his cheek, maybe marble? He blinked in the sudden brightness after so much time in total darkness, still struggling to wake up all the way.

Giants. He was surrounded by giants. Female giants in skirts. He resisted the juvenile impulse to look up a skirt while he was on the ground, and instead searched for his team. A moment later Daniel was deposited on the ground beside him.

“These garments are offensive,” said a harsh female voice from above him. At least he thought it was female. The voice was much deeper than most women he’d heard, but maybe it was because she was so large. The pro women basketball players he’d seen would look petite next to these guys. Gals. “Cut them off before you lock the runaways in the cage.”

“Hey, who you calling a runaway?” was what he meant to say, but he only heard a few garbled syllables come out of his mouth. What the heck? He tried to nudge Daniel as he had before, but his hand loosely flopped. Still made contact, though.

“J’ck?” Blue eyes were briefly visible as Daniel blinked a few times, then his lashes fluttered and he passed out again.

Jack tried to turn his head and search for Carter and Teal’c, but his body refused to obey his commands. That swimming in molasses feeling still surrounded him.

Someone lifted his legs and tugged at his feet. His boots were being removed. He remembered something about cutting off garments. Crap. “Hey,” he tried to say, “there’s no need to get personal.” But his mouth and tongue wouldn’t move correctly. It was worse than after a trip to the dentist. Novocain had never affected his entire body.

Something smooth and metallic touched his skin at the neckline of his shirt. Close to his throat. Before he could properly panic or resist, he heard ripping sounds. Lots of ripping. And cool air washed over his sweaty, exposed skin.

Oh, this was so not good.

*****

Carter and Teal’c reached the Stargate at twilight without incident, though they did hide from a passing Patrol twice. Teal’c prowled the tree line, keeping watch, while Carter ducked down by the DHD to report in to General Hammond.

“Slaves!” came the general’s shocked reply after she’d brought him up to date. “We can have SG units three and seven prepped and ready to leave in twenty minutes to provide backup, Major.”

Carter shook her head, even though she knew Hammond couldn’t see her. "I have a different plan in mind, sir. One of the locals, a retired slave … selva … is helping us, and he suggests I simply go in to town tomorrow and claim them from the Lost and Found before they’re sold at auction. I’m going to need Doctor Fraiser’s help, though. Is she on duty?”

Moments later a familiar voice came over the radio. “I’m here, Sam.”

“It’s a matriarchal society, Janet, and all the men are kept as slaves. Colonel O’Neill and Daniel were taken by a patrol, essentially dog catchers, and carted off to the local pound as if they’re strays. I can claim them as my property, but I need a wardrobe change. I have to look rich enough to own three slaves. Oh, and modesty is something they’ve never heard of here. Both Teal’c and I have to, uh,” Sam winced, “show some skin.”

There was a brief pause. Carter pictured Fraiser and Hammond exchanging incredulous looks. “How can I help, Sam?”

“Daniel’s assessment would be more detailed, but it seems to me the style of dress here is similar to our ancient Roman. Teal’c needs to look like a Roman soldier, only without the armor or weapons. I need to show off my, uh, my wealth. Basically I need to look like I’m going to the Oscars, after a shopping spree at Tiffany’s. You know our sizes. Can you go shopping for us, and send stuff through the gate?”

“Yes, of course. What kind of timeline are we working with?”

“If I understand Drayad’s explanation of their planetary cycles, we have about ten hours. We’ll come back to the gate just before sunrise.”

She broke off as Teal’c came running toward her but kept her finger on the transmit button. “MajorCarter!” His voice was quiet but intense. “Another patrol approaches.” Carter let go of the mic.

“We’ll dial the gate in precisely ten hours, Major,” General Hammond said.

“Copy that. Carter out.”

She and Teal’c headed for the tree line, and the Gate shut down.

*****

Ow.

Consciousness returned slowly. Jack became aware that he was vertical, his arms were over his head, and his shoulders and wrists were on fire. With a groan he put his feet flat on the floor, straightened his knees, and stood up. Blood started circulating again through his shoulders, up his arms, to his hands. Ow, ow, ow.

His eyes finally agreed to stay open and focus. He was in what he’d call a dungeon, except dim light filtered through several small windows high up in the walls of the circular room. The floor had a slight slope down toward a metal grate in the the center. His wrists were held in manacles, the chains screwed into the rough stone wall behind him so high his arms were almost straight up. He tried to step to the side, but more manacles circled his ankles, with the short chain screwed into the floor.

And he was naked.

Crap.

At least he was not alone. There were seven sets of manacles, though only two others were occupied.

Two sets of chains over to his left was Daniel, hanging limp by his wrists, his chin on his chest. Naked chest. Not a stitch on him.

To Jack’s right two chain sets over was another naked prisoner. The guy was huge – everywhere, Jack noted with a tiny twinge of envy – and tall enough that his manacled hands were at shoulder height rather than stretched overhead like Jack’s. He watched Jack in silence.

“Hey, how you doin’,” Jack said to him. “Come here often?”

He cocked his head to one side, but did not reply.

Daniel moaned and shifted, clanking his chains.

“Daniel!” Jack hissed.

“I’m up,” Daniel mumbled. He cleared his throat. “My turn on watch?” He lifted his head and looked around, blinking. He coughed and cleared his throat again, and straightened his legs, easing the strain on his hands and shoulders. Two inches shorter than Jack, his arms were straight up and his feet barely took any of his weight. He groaned. “Jack? Where the hell are we?” He squinted. “And why are you naked?”

“Don’t know, and same reason you are.”

Daniel glanced down at himself, then across at Jack, then to the other, still silent prisoner. Two bright spots of color bloomed on his cheeks. His chains clinked as he tried to move, an abortive attempt to cover himself. Four years of communal showers on base, and the guy still used a robe. He’d put on about twenty pounds since joining Jack’s team, all of it muscle, and regularly worked out with Teal’c. He had nothing to be embarrassed about. “Oh. Well, isn’t this pleasant.”

He looked up and to his left, and Jack could practically hear the gears turning.

“Last thing I remember is pulling a tranq dart out of my neck,” Daniel said at last. “They hit you first. You’d already gone down.”

“Yeah. Question is, who are they? And what’d we do to tick them off?”

Daniel bit his bottom lip, then looked around the room as though just realizing something. “So, it’s just the three of us, then?”

Jack sure hoped Carter and Teal’c were working on a rescue, rather than chained up in another stone room. “Looks that way.”

Jack tested his manacles, trying to pull them from the wall, or slip his hands free. They were designed, apparently, to resist the efforts of guys much bigger and stronger than himself. Had to try, though. After several minutes of inflicting pain and breathing hard all he’d managed was to cut his wrists and bruise his thumbs, and he couldn’t swipe at the tickling trickle of blood running down his arms.

They heard an electronic zap, and part of the stone wall directly across from Jack disappeared, becoming an open doorway.

One of the female giants entered, dressed in a simple yellow dress that reached mid-calf with short sleeves, and sandals held on with straps that wrapped around her calves. Long black hair flowed down her back. Metal jewelry glittered at her throat and wrists, and she carried a slim rod in one hand. Jack had a flashback to Goa’uld pain sticks, and suppressed a shudder.

“Hey,” Jack said. “What—“

“Silence!” She glared and pointed the stick at him. Now Jack could see the rod ended in a double-prong with rounded tips. Okay, not a Goa’uld pain stick, but probably still something he didn’t want to get closely acquainted with. He shut his mouth.

She ignored Daniel and approached the other prisoner. “Your mistress has answered our summons. She said with your infirmity you are no longer worth the cost of upkeep, and has relinquished her rights to you.” She sneered, and pushed on the side of the guy’s right knee with her rod. His mouth opened in a grimace of pain, but no sound came out. She tapped each side of his neck with the rod and the guy flinched. “She did suggest we give you another twelve lashes as punishment for running away.”

Jack could see the pulse flutter at the guy’s neck, but he kept his expression stoic.

“However,” the giant continued, ”I am hoping we can still get something for you at the auction the cycle after tomorrow, so I will refrain. Do not want to damage the merchandise any further.”

The guy bowed his head in relief. Or gratitude. Maybe both.

Jack’s stomach flipped as her words sank in. She planned to sell the guy at auction? Oh, this did not bode well for him and Daniel.

She sauntered over to Jack and looked him up and down, her full upper lip curved in a sneer. He kept his mouth shut and his gaze straight ahead … which, given her height, was directly at her impressively ample bosom. Huh. The women here didn’t wear a bra. At six-foot-two Jack was on the tall side, at least on Earth away from pro basketball players, and it had been a long time since he had to look up, and up, at a woman.

“You do not bear the mark of a mistress,” she said. “It has been many season cycles since a wild selva has been caught.” Her gaze caught on the blood at his wrists. “Escape is not possible. If you persist in trying to damage yourself, I will have you shot you with a sleep dart again.”

Another woman entered the room just then, carrying some kind of tablet. Her dress was also yellow, though shorter, and her jewelry was slightly less gaudy. “I have checked the files, Precept, and can find no record of these two … specimens.”

The giant in front of Jack turned to the newcomer. “So they are indeed wild? Excellent. They will fetch a tidy sum at auction.”

“Auction?” Jack sputtered.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Daniel jumped in. “We’re peaceful explorers from the planet Earth. We—“ He broke off as the giant pointed the stick at him.

“How dare you speak before a mistress has given you permission!”

The other woman hurried over, distracting the giant in her anger, and gestured at Jack and Daniel. “They are so small, Precept. Do you really think anyone will want them? How much work could they actually do? Of what use are they when they’re so, so… scrawny?”

Jack wanted to ask who she was calling scrawny, but kept his mouth shut. If these three were anything to go by, Earth people were pretty small in comparison to the residents of this planet.

“True, they are fully grown. Look at the wrinkles and gray hair on this one,” she pointed her thumb at Jack, who narrowed his eyes but kept his mouth shut. “Yet are the size of children. Life in the wild must stunt their growth. But consider the novelty!” She clasped her hands together, and Jack could practically see dollar signs – or whatever currency they used here - flash in her eyes. “When was the last time a wild selva was caught? Someone will want them.”

The other woman peered more closely at Daniel, who Jack knew must be struggling not to squirm. “The blue eyes and physical form of this one are pleasing to the eye. Perhaps someone will want to use him to breed petite selvas.”

Daniel’s eyes widened in shock but he stayed quiet. Bright spots of color flooded his cheeks. If it was possible to die of embarrassment, he’d be a goner. Usually he kept going with the “we’re peaceful explorers” schtick but the rod in the giant’s hand must be keeping him quiet. Jack tried to recall if Daniel had ever been subject to a Goa’uld pain stick. Ribbon device, sure, way too many times, but he wasn’t certain about the stick.

The two women abruptly left, and the stone wall groaned back into place where the door had been.

“That went well,” Jack muttered.

“Jack, I think selvas are slaves. They’re planning to sell us – the three of us – at an auction.”

“Yeah, I got that. I wonder how much time we have?”

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Daniel groaned and shifted, trying to get comfortable. “You think they ever plan to let us out? Like for a bathroom break?”

Jack had been trying to ignore the pressing need of his own full bladder. “Crap, why’d you have to—“ He broke off as the guy to his right thrust his hips forward and let go a stream of urine that would do a racehorse proud. Some splashed on his legs and feet, but most of it flowed toward the center of the room to what Jack now realized was a drain.

After what seemed a long, long time, the guy relaxed back in his chains and exhaled a sigh of relief.

Jack shrugged, or at least tried to. “When in Rome,” he said, and let fly. Ahh.

Daniel bit his lip and held out a while, his eyes squeezed shut, but finally muttered, “What the hell,” and made it unanimous.

After a while Jack turned to the other guy, who had still not spoken. “You don’t say much. The precept or whatever she is has gone.”

He looked at Jack and his mouth moved, but no sound came out.

“You can’t speak, can you?” Daniel suddenly exclaimed.

The man shook his head.

“Can’t speak now, or not at all?”

Again his mouth moved but no sound came out.

“Oh crap,” Jack said. He could feel the color draining from his face.

“What?”

“You saw how he flinched when she got near him with that rod? I think it disabled his voice. Paralyzed his vocal chords, or something.”

The man nodded.

“Oh, boy,” Daniel said. He addressed the guy across from him. “Is it permanent?”

He shook his head.

“So it wears off after a while? You’ll be able to speak again?”

He nodded. He stretched, twisting one direction then the other as far as his chains would allow. Jack got a glimpse of the guy’s back.

“Ouch,” Jack said in sympathy.

Daniel had been examining their prison, as well as he could without his glasses, but looked at Jack in question.

Jack tilted his head at their silent companion. “He’s been whipped. I saw the lash marks.”

“Like a slave.”

Daniel held his gaze, and Jack knew they were thinking the same thing. Carter and Teal’c better be working on a rescue, or they were in big trouble.

*****  
  


Carter and Teal’c returned to Drayad’s shack for the night. The old man had insisted, and they didn’t have any better options. She refused to take his bed, though.

“You are more than generous, Drayad,” she said. “But you have earned your soft bed in your retirement. Please remember that we’ve been traveling, and soft cushions before the fire with a roof over our heads is more luxury than we’ve had lately.”

The old man seemed appeased, and they settled in for the night. A fabric screen blocked the view of the bed from the main area of the shack, but couldn’t block the sound of Drayad’s snores. Teal’c was settled on one cushion, legs folded as he performed Kel’no’reem. Sam tried to get comfortable, boots off but still fully dressed. She was in the lap of luxury compared to what Daniel and the Colonel must be going through. What **were** they going through? “Don’t go there, Sam,” she muttered. She’d be of no use to her team mates if she couldn’t get some rest. She concentrated on tensing and relaxing groups of muscles.

It seemed like she had barely closed her eyes when Teal’c gently shook her awake. The sky was beginning to lighten. Drayad was still snoring when they left the shack and went to the Stargate.

True to his word, Hammond dialed in exactly when he said he would. “Status report, Major.”

“Unchanged from last night, sir.”

“We are ready to receive a package, General Hammond,” Teal’c intoned. “Were you able to procure the items MajorCarter requested?”

Doctor Fraiser’s voice came over the radio. “Cassie and I hit the mall last night, and cleaned out the costume jewelry. She wants a pair of shoes just like the ones we’re sending. I also took the liberty of going to your house, Sam, and am sending you some war paint.”

“Thank you, Janet.”

A large backpack tumbled out of the Gate. Teal’c shrugged into it without examining the contents, and moved back to the cover of the tree line.

“We were able to make contact with your father,” Hammond added. “Selmac and Anise are not familiar with this particular planet but know of a society that may be similar. They suggested a few additions, like the sack of coins in several currencies and denominations, in case you have to,” he paused, and Carter imagined him shaking his head, “buy them at the auction.”

“Thank you, sir.” Carter really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The auction wasn’t for another 36 hours in their time. “The sun is coming up. We have to go.”

“God speed, Major.” And the Gate shut down.

Drayad was up and preparing his morning meal when they returned to the shack. Her stomach was in knots, but Teal’c persuaded her to eat a few bites of an MRE anyway.

“You must keep your strength up, MajorCarter.”

“What is that?” Drayad said. “What is that name you call your mistress?”

“Carter is my family name, and Major is my rank.”

The old man clucked his tongue. “That may be proper where you are from, but such a foreign form of address will cause further difficulties with the Precept.”

“With what form do you address your mistress?” Teal’c began devouring the rest of Carter’s MRE that she pushed toward him, after he’d eaten his own.

“Lady Faustina, or Mistress.”

Carter and Teal’c looked at each other.

“Lady Saman’tha,” he intoned, with a lift of one eyebrow.

Sam liked the sound of her name with the emphasis on the last syllable. She nodded approval. “Familiar, but still exotic sounding.”

Drayad pointed out the window. “The sun is rising. You will be able to claim your selvas soon.”

She and Teal’c dug into the backpack, which held a small parcel with Teal’c’s name, a couple with Sam’s name, one each with O’Neill and Daniel’s name, and other generic packs like more MREs and an extra large field first aid kit. Sam shuddered. Trust Janet to worry about the condition in which they’d find the guys.

***

There were no lights in the dungeon room. As the sun set, the room dimmed until it was completely dark. Periodically Jack heard the clink of chains as someone shifted, trying to get comfortable. Dried blood on Jack’s wrists made them stick to the manacles, so he tried to limit his movements. Daniel had to stand on his tiptoes to get any relief for his strained wrists and shoulders, but couldn’t stay that way too long or his calves would cramp.

At least the chains were the only sounds. No scurrying of rodent feet, nothing slithering out of the hole in the center of the floor. Jack had been in worse prisons. He and Daniel kept quiet in the blackness in case the other actually managed to get any sleep.

After one of the longest nights in Jack’s life, the sun rose and the room gradually lightened.

“Hanging in there, Daniel?”

“Funny.” Daniel coughed, and tried again, his voice raspy. “Hanging being the operative word.“ He cleared his throat, his voice getting stronger. “If they want us to look good for the auction, do you think they’re going to give us water? Food’s probably too much to expect.”

By Jack’s estimate it had been over 24 hours since they’d anything to drink, and the sleep dart had made his mouth dry. Before he could answer, the big guy next to him grunted, squatted as best he could in the chains, and moved his bowels.

The lingering aroma of urine on the floor was bad enough, but now this? Jack let his head thump back against the stone wall.

With a relieved sigh the guy stood up. Moments later they heard the grind of stone on stone, and tiny openings in the wall became visible, a line of squares at regular intervals high on the wall that went all the way around the room.

Water gushed out of each opening, shooting a stream strong enough to reach more than halfway across the room. Cold water.

The big guy tilted his head back, mouth open, and tried to catch the stream.

“I had to ask,” Daniel said over the roaring water.

A second row of stones slid open and water gushed out, just below the first row, each square slightly offset from the one above. As a third row down started shooting water, the first row shut off and openings closed. By the fourth row, Jack was getting hit in the head with a strong stream of cold water. The next row hit his neck, then two hit his shoulders, and continued to hopscotch down his back. He barely stifled a yelp when one stream hit his butt like an overaggressive bidet.

The shower continued in a concentric downward circle, one row shutting off as another below began to flow, each opening offset so the entire room was hosed down until spigots just above the floor flowed, flushing everything to the center of the room and down the drain.

Well, the room no longer stank. Jack shook water out of his eyes and shivered. “Get enough to drink?”

Daniel’s response was a long string of words in an unfamiliar language, spoken with great feeling, though Jack would bet it was not complimentary. To anyone.

*****

Sam looked at the clothes laid out on Drayad’s bed in dismay. The old man had gone outside to do morning chores, and Teal’c had shifted the screen to give her privacy to change.

Heck of a lot of good that was going to do, given that she was supposed to go about half naked. Janet thought she should wear this diaphanous chiffon dress in midnight blue? Or Anise?

Or worse, her dad?

When she mentioned dressing for the Oscars, she was thinking Uma Therman, not Cher. She was thinking the backless, slinky dress at Nordstrom they’d had to talk Cassie out of wearing to the prom this spring, not a negligee from Victoria’s Secret.

“I can’t do this.” She didn’t realize she had spoken aloud until she heard Teal’c snort in disgust.

“If I can wear this, you can wear yours, MajorCarter.”

How bad could his be?

Sam sighed. This couldn’t be all of it. She dug in the pack again. Ah. There were two more pieces, basically matching briefs and a bandeau top. She buried her face in her hands, allowing herself to wallow for a moment.

Just for a moment. Then she straightened her spine and stuck out her chin. Her team mates, her friends, were relying on her. She could do this. She _**would** _do this.

She stripped off her uniform, every stitch she’d been wearing down to and including her dog tags, and pulled on the briefs and bandeau, then the dress. It had no sleeves or straps, but the jewel-encrusted neckline continued on up and clasped behind her neck. Sapphires, rubies, emeralds and diamonds glittered in the sunlight at her décolletage, collarbone, and neck. The dress hit her mid-calf, the length she’d seen in Drayad’s pictures, and had a slit up the side of each leg almost to her hips. The undergarments, fortunately, were as opaque as the dress was sheer.

She sighed. She was supposed to walk through town like this? In public?

Out the window, she could see workers coming out to the fields, in their skimpy or non-existent clothes. She looked down at herself. To be fair, the outfit was similar to a bikini with a sheer cover-up. A much skimpier bikini than she’d ever worn, but … well, hey, she was probably in the best shape of her life. She worked hard in the gym and in the field as part of a first-contact team. Had to be in shape, so as not to risk her life or her team mates, and they’d had to run for their lives, literally, more times than she cared to count. She could pull off this outfit, with her head held high.

Another bag had sandals, flat in deference to having to walk on unpaved roads or no roads at all, with more multi-colored glass jewels on the straps across the instep. The long straps at the heel wrapped around her calf and tied just below the knee. No wonder Cassie wanted a pair. If they were comfortable to walk in, Sam was keeping these for herself. In the bag there was also a tall tortoiseshell hair comb, like she’d seen Spanish flamenco dancers wear, with a row of glittering cubic zirconias across the top. At least she hoped they weren’t real diamonds.

With her short hair, what was she supposed to do with a magnificent comb? As she turned to leave the dressing area, something fluttered against her foot. A length of chiffon had fallen to the floor, a large square. The fabric matched the dress, with tiny elastic loops sewed near one corner. She slipped the teeth of the comb through the loops and stuck it in her hair. She could pull the sides around her shoulders like a cloak – precious little protection the flimsy material would provide - or let it float behind her. She bent to retrieve something from the bed, and the corner of the chiffon fell over her face. Sam mentally did a face-palm. A veil. Of course. It was meant to be worn as a seductive veil, not a cloak. She flipped the fabric back over her head.

The last bag was small but clinked when she handled it. Yep, jewelry. Sam moved the partition so she could sit at the table and use the mirror and better light to finish putting on her ensemble.

Teal’c stood stiffly by the fireplace. Sam stifled a gasp.

Janet must have visited a costume shop and bought the Roman Gladiator option. Teal'c wore a one-shouldered tan tunic, with gold braid at his neckline and hem, which was short enough to show his impressive quad muscles. The gold-braided belt at his waist should help show off her wealth. His sandals also tied around the calf, but were plain leather, no jewels. All those muscles on display, his awesome arms and legs, the gold emblem on his forehead, his fierce expression, just screamed ‘Don’t mess with me.’ 

“You look … great, Teal’c.”

He inclined his head in a slight bow.

She sat down, had to stand and free the veil from yanking her head back, and sat down again. She dumped out the bag, scattering bracelets, rings, and other accessories, as well as compacts with eye shadow and liner, blush, mascara, lipstick, and a couple bottles of nail polish. Usually she just wore lipstick and mascara when she indulged in makeup, but today she was going all out.

Teal’c sat at the table and sorted through the jewelry. He looked concerned when she made a weird face in order to apply the mascara and liner, but soon nodded his head in understanding.

“What?”

“I admit I was curious as to what DoctorFrasier referred as war paint, but now I see.”

Sam smiled, and made up her other eye.

When she tucked her tools back in the makeup bag, Teal’c pushed several items toward her across the table. “I believe these will complete the look you are striving for.”

She put on the dangly earrings and jangly bracelets, and tried the rings to see which one fit which finger. She’d never worn six rings at once, not even when going out to a club. Janet had included Sam’s own silver thumb ring.

“I confess I do not know how this accessory is to be worn.”

The last item Teal’c had pushed forward glittered in the light. Sam smiled. “She remembered.” Without a trace of self-consciousness, she stood and pulled up her dress far enough to insert the belly button ring. It was gold and dangled below her belly button, chandelier style, studded with cubic zirconias. She gave an experimental swivel of her hips, and the jewels danced in the sunlight.

She let her dress fall and shimmied until everything was in place. “Janet was with me when I got my belly button pierced. Usually I just wear a plain gold ring, or maybe with one stone when I’m off-duty. I joked about what kind of occasion would warrant a ring this flashy, and we had a good laugh. I bet she laughed last night when she put it in with this other stuff.”

She was putting the leftovers back in the bag when Teal’c set a bottle of ruby red nail polish down. “I believe this color is most suitable.”

Sam examined the bottle. The label promised quick dry and one coat coverage. She shrugged. “You mind packing while I paint?”

“Not at all, MajorCarter.”

Sam painted her toenails while Teal’c moved the partition and packed up her clothes she’d discarded on the bed. Well, he’d probably seen everything anyway at some point. She and the guys did their best, but there wasn’t a lot of privacy in a field unit. Heaven knew she’d seen each of them in practically every stage of dress.

Teal’c moved on to packing the rest of the gear while she did her fingernails. She could almost hear Colonel O’Neill chiding her, giving herself a manicure while there was work to be done. But she refused to feel guilty. In this instance, she was applying armor, or war paint, for an important mission. Ridiculous, but his life and Daniel’s could rest on her ability to look and act as imperious as a System Lord. And the Gao’ulds certainly laid it on thick with the makeup and accessories.

Teal’c had just zipped the pack shut when Drayad entered the shack. The old man took one glance at Carter seated at the table and immediately dropped to one knee, his head bowed. “Mistress,” he breathed.

Sam reached to pull him up, but Teal’c gave a slight shake to his head. “Lady Saman’tha,” he murmured.

She raised her chin. “Your show of respect pleases me,” she managed at last. Yes, she could do imperious. Just think of all the System Lords they’d encountered, she reminded herself. “You may rise.”

He shifted and let out a soft grunt but didn’t get up.

Teal’c put a hand under Drayad’s elbow and helped him stand, then returned to his post by the fireplace at attention.

After Sam gestured for Drayad to be seated at the table, she blew on her nails to help them dry faster. “What else do we need to know about dealing with the Precept? And how to get there?”

Drayad launched into conversation, describing the building, the path they’d need to take to get to Zenobium and find the gola building, and other details. “She has profited considerably in her post, and is not likely to give up your selvas easily if she thinks she can make money from them,” he reminded. “But she abhors deception. If you can prove your claim, you should be able to leave with them.”

Teal’c had been double-checking the pack while they talked, surreptitiously making sure their zats and other weapons were easily accessible. “One more item of importance, Lady Saman’tha.” He held up a tube of sunblock.

Oh, right. If she was going to bare this much skin, no sense getting a burn. The sun had risen while they prepared, and she could already feel the temperature rising. She applied sunscreen everywhere she could reach, then pulled her veil aside so Teal’c could do the back of her neck and shoulders.

She had to squeeze her eyes shut on a wave of emotion. How many times had the four of them stood just this way, each applying sunscreen to the person in front of them, then the person in front moving to do the person who was at the back of the line? Team mates took care of each other.

When he finished she automatically reached for the tube to do his neck, but a subtle shake of his head reminded her that a mistress would not do so for a selva. They’d have to wait until they reached a private spot down the road to protect his skin. She ended up using her aborted hand movement for a grand gesture toward the door.

Teal’c hefted the pack onto his back. The coins in the purse clinked in an outer pocket. Sam retrieved the purse and spilled a sampling of the coins into her hand.

“Are any of these used as currency here?”

Drayad peered into her hand. “This one, and this one, are used in transactions instead of exchanging goods.” He pointed at two with squared edges, different sizes but similar markings.

“What is this one worth?” She held up one of the coins. There were several more just like it in the purse.

Drayad cocked his head and tapped one gnarled finger to his bottom lip. “I could buy several cycles’ worth of victuals with that at the market.” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “Sometimes Lady Faustina forgets to send Olen with supplies.”

Sam handed him the coin. “Thank you for your help and hospitality.”

Drayad’s eyes grew round with surprise, then he bowed deeply from the waist. “It was my pleasure to serve you, Lady Saman’tha.”

She and Teal’c left. They passed the workers in the fields, the magnificent house, and more houses and other buildings, as well as people, as they got closer to town. Before the road got too busy they ducked down behind a bush and Sam spread sunblock on Teal’s neck, then kept watch while he quickly applied it elsewhere. They were about to leave when he stopped her, and applied a stripe beside her nose. “You missed a spot,” he said quietly.

“Thank you.”

He inclined his head, still regal despite his slave attire, and they continued.

Butterflies went nuts in Sam’s stomach as they entered the outskirts of Zenobium. There was an open air market in progress, with vendors under canopies selling everything one would expect at a market anywhere in the world, in the universe – foodstuffs, clothing, accessories, jewelry, cooking utensils. The sellers and shoppers were both genders, though all of the men were dressed in short tunics, or shirtless with pleated miniskirts. On many she glimpsed a brand on their inner forearm or outer thigh.

She was pleased to note that her attire, and Teal’c’s, did not stand out. Other than being about a foot shorter than most of the locals, they seemed to be blending in. Teal’c generated a few second looks, as his skin was much darker than hers or that of other shoppers, but didn’t cause a stir.

Another time, other circumstances, she would have loved to explore the stalls, the local handcrafts and food. Daniel would no doubt be able to discuss what could be learned from a society by its retail offerings. If she was accused of speaking technobabble, he could hold forth in archeo/linguist babble. What she wouldn’t give now to hear his soothing tenor, his professor voice, his excited stammering.

Teal’c had been walking beside her as they traveled to town, but as they saw more people, he dropped back a step. Most of the men either walked in front of their mistress, clearing the path, or stayed a deferential step behind. Sam was on point, and Teal’c had her six.

Her step faltered when she saw one woman, who had to be at least seven feet tall, holding a leash ... attached to the collar around a man’s neck. He was carrying a woven basket overflowing with food and her other purchases. The selva was several inches taller than Teal’c, and as tall as his mistress was, it seemed he could easily overpower her if he wanted. Now that she’d noticed one, she saw several other pairs in the market, where the woman held the leash attached to her selva’s collar.

How did the women keep the men subservient?

Then Sam noticed two women in identical, distinctive yellow tunics walking through the market. They each carried a long weapon like a rifle, and hanging from their belt was what looked like a Goa’uld pain stick. They must be part of the local police force, like the patrol that took Daniel and the Colonel. Dog catchers, she’d called them.

She inclined her head and exchanged glances with Teal’c to make sure he saw them, too. His only reaction was a tightening at the corners of his mouth.

When they first became a team, O’Neill had described it as Teal’c’s “just smelled a fart” expression. Wonder how Colonel O’Neill would react to seeing men lead by a leash? Or Daniel?

The crowds thinned as they passed through the market and entered what looked like a business district. Two streets over and one turn later, they reached the gola. The large building was set back from the street, with a big open area out front, and near a side door of the building were steps that led up to a platform four feet above the ground, about four feet square. It was too small to be a stage, as there was only room for a few people to stand.

“This must be where they hold the auctions,” Teal’c said in a low voice.

Sam shivered.

Just like markets, bureaucratic buildings had elements in common the universe over. Their path a few steps indoors was blocked by a desk, staffed by an enormous woman who made Sam feel like how Janet must feel when they stood next to each other. The receptionist? official? junior dog catcher? wore a yellow tunic and a bored expression when she finally deigned to look down at them.

“I’m here to claim my selvas,” Sam said, proud she didn’t stammer or blush. She held her chin a little higher for good measure.

“That so?” she drawled. All she needed was gum to crack, Sam thought. She turned her head. “Got another one!” she yelled over shoulder. She went back to whatever she was doing at the desk with a tablet-like device.

Another woman entered from a side office. Her yellow tunic had short sleeves, whereas the first one’s tunic was one-shouldered. “You wish to make a claim for selvas?”

“Yes. They’re mine and I’d like them back.” Sam had to force herself to not add ‘please.’

“You are the fourth mistress since I broke my fast to try to claim them.” She let out a deep sigh. “Describe them.”

 _ **Fourth**_? “They were on an errand for me, a dangerous one, so they were wearing protective clothing. Heavy footwear, long sleeves, long pants, in a uniform dark green.” Sam added a brief physical description of Daniel and the Colonel.

“They bear no mark from a mistress. They are wild.”

“They are marked. Or tagged, rather.” Sam reached for Teal’c’s dog tags, which he had fortunately not removed when he changed into his tunic, and rattled them. “Like this. Small metal plates on a chain around their necks. The tags worn by Daniel and Col- uh, Jack would have been tucked inside their clothing. Close to their heart.” Sam couldn’t let herself make eye contact with Teal’c but she let his tags fall back to his chest. “The plates identify them as being my property.”

The woman didn’t look convinced. “Why are they not marked the same as your other selva?” She gestured with her chin at Teal’c’s gold tattoo.

“I acquired them at different times, as my fortune increased. This mark was actually made by his former mas- mistress.”

The woman cocked her head to one side. Sam forced herself to not fidget. The official started walking down the hall. “Come with me.”

They stopped outside what must be a break room. There were stacks of small cupboards with personal items, weapons stored along one wall, and several tables and chairs. Three women who were seated at a table, plates of food before them, jumped to their feet. All wore a one-shouldered yellow tunic.

“You were part of the crew that captured the wild selvas?”

They nodded.

“Did they wear small metal plates on a chain?”

Without prompting, Teal’c pulled his dog tags out and rattled them.

The women exchanged furtive glances. Sam was certain they were going to lie.

“Precept said their garments were offensive,” the one in the middle said. “We burned everything.”

Damn.

The official waved at them, and they sat down, and she started back toward the front entrance. “You can bid on them at the auction if you are so set on owning them,” she said.

Sam refused to give up. “They do have marks. On their bodies.”

The official paused mid-stride, put her foot down, then slowly turned. “You can identify them by these marks?”

Sam stuck her chin out. “Yes.”

“Follow me.”

They went down a long hallway, passing several doors, until the official stopped before a large, ornate double door, and knocked.

“Enter.”

The official opened one side of the door and spoke to the occupant. Sam strained to see, but her view was blocked. “Beg pardon, Precept. This one wishes to claim the selvas.”

“And why are you bothering me about it? They are wild. Send her away like the other liars. I told you the novelty would be popular. We shall make a tidy sum from them at auction.”

Sam forced herself to stay still, not react. Like playing poker. Give nothing away.

“She knows more about them than the previous claimants, Precept. She knew their correct eye color. And the names by which they addressed one another.”

The official stepped back, and an enormous woman with long black hair came to the door. Her dress was also yellow, but had elbow-length sleeves and a hem that reached mid-calf. The higher the rank, the more fabric, Sam mused.

“Do you have documents proving your ownership?”

“We are traveling,” Sam said. “I left important documents at home in a safe, with the titles to my other property.”

“Then how can you prove your claim?”

“I can identify their marks.”

“They bear no mark from a mistress. I examined them myself.”

Sam swallowed hard. “Where I come from, we mark our selvas differently.”

The Precept harrumphed, but led the way down the labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Eventually she stopped and pressed a series of buttons on the stone wall. With an electronic zap, what had appeared to be a section of the solid stone wall simply disappeared. Through the new opening she saw what looked like a circular dungeon, and inside were three prisoners chained to the wall.

Three _**naked** _prisoners.

Holy Hannah.

Daniel’s mouth fell open in shock, and the Colonel blinked, but neither of them said anything. Neither did the giant chained with them. He glanced at her and yawned. O’Neill gave her a quick head to toe perusal, but she couldn’t read his expression.

She thought she’d feel self-conscious, wearing so little in front of her CO. The times they’d all gone to the pool at Peterson for team PT, she’d always worn a modest one-piece suit while the guys wore trunks and maybe even a swim shirt, but here she was wearing basically a skimpy bikini with a wispy cover-up, and over-the-top makeup and jewelry.

But the guys… She may have had a glimpse of not-usually-seen skin here and there over the years, someone washing up in a stream or changing clothes. But now they were completely exposed to her view, and the view of anyone else who happened by.

She didn’t want to gawk, but couldn’t help seeing what was exposed. Daniel had been working out with Teal’c the last few years, and his efforts were paying off handsomely.

Despite – or maybe because of - the Colonel’s love of dessert, he still did crunches and whatever else it took to stave off middle-age spread. He still had the lean, toned body to match his swimmer’s build. He couldn’t forestall all the effects of age, though. The smattering of hair on his chest was graying, as was— Ahem. Yeah, the carpet matched the drapes. She stared at one of the far windows high in the ceiling for a moment in lieu of fanning herself.

Pulling herself together, Sam focused on the crisis at hand and did a cursory inspection, all business, trying not to be obvious about it. They both had a day’s growth of beard stubble, and dark shadows under their eyes bore testimony of a sleepless night. Couldn’t be very comfortable, with their arms stretched and hands chained so high above their heads. And they were cold. Um, really cold. And wet. No blood visible or large bruises, so maybe they hadn’t been treated too badly. Aside from the whole chained-up-naked part. Daniel’s face was flaming, but the Colonel just looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

She cleared her throat and tried to keep her gaze above their shoulders. She’d want them to do the same, after all, were their positions reversed. “I’ve come to take you home.”

They didn’t say anything, which was disconcerting. But the Precept was right there, and maybe prisoners were forbidden to speak unless given permission, like a Mistress and her selva.

“I will confirm the marks myself,” Precept said. She addressed the other official. “Run the clean cycle.”

She looked surprised. “It ran just a few— Yes, Precept.” She punched buttons on the wall.

With another electronic zap, a force field filled the doorway. Grinding stone doors moved to reveal spigots high on the wall near the ceiling, all the way around the room. Water shot out, soaking the prisoners. The stones opened and closed in staggered lowering circles, until the bottom row of spigots pushed all the water down the sloped floor to a drain in the center of the room.

The last stones slid back into place. The prisoners shook water from their eyes and huffed out deep breaths, but no one said anything. Their chains clanked as they shivered. None of them commented or complained about the obviously chilly water. Not even a sarcastic quip from the Colonel. Sam’s anxiety went up a notch.

The Precept touched a hidden panel, which slid aside to reveal several weapons and implements Sam didn’t want to consider too closely. Precept chose one that looked much like a Goa’uld pain stick, then punched in the combination to clear the force shield and entered the room.

“You stay there,” she told Sam.

With the Precept walking away and her assistant focused on the prisoners, Sam felt Teal’c rest his hand on her shoulder and give her a quick squeeze before dropping his hand back to his side. She took a deep breath and tried to relax. Focus. Stay in character.

The Precept paused when she reached O’Neill. “Expel urine on me again, and I will personally flog you.” She pointed the pain stick at him, an inch from his throat.

Sam started. Seriously?

O’Neill stared back at the Precept, his gaze unflinching.

“Where is your mark?” she demanded over shoulder.

“On their right leg, about here.” Sam pointed to her outer right thigh.

The Precept bent to examine O’Neill’s leg, then moved over to Daniel. After looking at both his legs, she turned to Sam. “These appear to be old scars, either marks that were removed when they ran away to become wild, or from old injuries. Not a mark of ownership.”

Crap, crap, crap.

Inspiration struck. Scalpel marks counted, right? “There is a second mark of ownership on the younger one’s body. On his lower right abdomen.” Sam pointed to the same spot on herself.

Daniel’s eyebrows raised. His blush had cooled when they got sprayed with water, but heat was rising in his cheeks again.

The Precept bent to have a close look. Daniel’s head thumped back against the wall, his eyes closed. If one could actually die of embarrassment, he’d be flatlining. He’d refused to let anyone see his appendicitis scar except Janet – his surgeon - even after a few beers on team night.

“Why here, where it can so easily be hidden?” Precept straightened and stared back at Sam.

“Look how beautiful a specimen he is. Why mar such perfection?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at her. Yeah, okay, he'd probably want payback for that at some point. Sam loved him like a brother, but wasn't blind to the fact that half the women - and many of the men - they encountered in the galaxy seemed to lust after the handsome archeologist.

The Precept harrumphed, and went back to the Colonel. “He bears no such mark.” She sent a challenging glare at Sam.

“No,” Sam conceded. She caught the Colonel’s eye, offering an apology in advance. “He is much older, so his mark is older. There are two parallel lines on his knee, two on the inside of his elbow, and two more in the middle of his lower back.”

The Precept inspected the Colonel’s body. He held his breath in, abs contracted. Sam locked gazes with him, trying to preserve some shred of his dignity.

“Turn,” the Precept ordered.

His manacles clanked as he twisted his hips, exposing as much of his back as his chains would allow.

A junior officer wasn’t supposed to ever see her CO’s bare butt. There was probably an Air Force regulation that specifically prohibited it. Sam wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but she kept her eyes open, gaze raised high.

Couldn’t do anything about the fact she had awesome peripheral vision, though.

The Precept finally ran out of protests. “Very well. Get the key.”

The official beside Sam stepped away.

“Hear that, guys? We’re going home.”

Still, neither said anything. Not a sound. Sam’s heart pounded. She glanced from one to the other. “Your mistress has given you permission to speak.”

Daniel and the Colonel looked at each other and then her, but remained silent.

“What’s wrong with them? Why won’t they talk?”

The Precept shrugged. “They grew annoying. I had to use the Silencer Stick on them.”

“You what? Silenced them?” Sam clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain calm when she wanted to shout in anger. Or punch someone.

“The effect is not permanent. It will wear off.” The Precept examined the rings on her left hand. “Eventually.”

Sam inhaled a deep breath, preparing to launch into a doozy of a complaint.

“You damaged Lady Saman’tha’s property,” Teal’c intoned, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the building. “Lady Saman’tha demands recompense.”

“Recompense?” Sam looked at the Colonel, who darted his glance to the giant prisoner beside him, then back to her. He did it again. “Yes, recompense,” she said with more confidence. She pointed to the third prisoner. “He’ll do.”

The Precept started to protest. Sam cut her off with an imperious wave, jingling her bracelets. “He is here as unclaimed property, is he not? You took my property without just cause and detained them overnight, which delayed my journey while I had to come down to the dog pound to claim them. You damaged their voices. And after being restrained this way for so long, how much time will need to pass before they heal and can once more adequately serve me? Not to mention that all my property they had with them was destroyed when your officers burned their garments, as you commanded.” Sam finally paused to take a breath. “You will offer that selva as recompense. At the very least.”

The official returned just then with a large ring of keys.

“Very well, Mistress,” the Precept said, practically spitting the last word. “Free all three,” she told her assistant.

The assistant unlocked Daniel’s feet first, then his hands. He fell to the rough stone floor in an ungainly heap. Sam winced. He stood up slowly, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. O’Neill staggered once he was freed but managed to not fall. Barely. He braced one hand on the wall for balance.

Daniel clasped his hands in front of his groin, his blush spreading from his face all the way down to his chest. O’Neill just kept trying to get his circulation going. Sam knew he’d suffered greater depravities and indignities in an Iraqi prison several years back, but this still had to be uncomfortable for him. He was just a good poker player.

“They cannot travel this way,” Sam said. “Do you have clothing and footwear for them? All three of them?”

The giant had just been released from his manacles. He put his palms together and bowed his head in gratitude.

“We do,” the assistant said. “This way.”

“Teal’c, go with them. Make sure they are bathed and dressed appropriately before they enter my sight again.” She hoped his presence would prevent any further mistreatment.

“As you wish, Lady Saman’tha.”

The Precept harrumphed again and disappeared down the hallway, back toward her office.

The three former prisoners filed out of the dungeon past her, following the official and Teal’c down the hallway. Sam’s view of her departing teammates was almost immediately blocked by the giant bringing up the rear. They entered a room two doors down, and Sam was left alone.

She slumped against the wall, gulping in air. She didn’t realize she was shaking until she swiped the veil aside so it wasn’t pulling on her hair, and noticed how loud her bracelets jangled.

Deep breaths. Her poker game ought to improve after this experience. Maybe she’d even take up acting, perform with the local community theater group back home.

By the time she reached the room the guys had gone into, she was still jingling. Her nerves as well as the bracelets.

So, maybe she wouldn’t take up acting. Stick to studying naquada reactors. Much less nerve-wracking.

Sam had just about recovered her equilibrium when the door opened. Teal’c emerged first, then the official, who was holding a leash. Which was attached to a collar around the Colonel’s neck. A chain connected his collar to the one around Daniel’s neck, and another chain from Daniel’s collar stretched up to the collar around the giant’s neck. And their hands were tied behind their backs.

So much for her equilibrium. She clenched her teeth to keep her mouth from falling open.

At least they were no longer naked. Sort of. They each wore a pleated tan mini skirt tied in place with a coarse rope belt. Sandals, but no shirt. Still unshaven, though now they smelled of soap instead of sweat.

The official handed the leash’s looped handle and a small key to Sam. “I can add a collar for this one if you’d like.” She gestured toward Teal’c, who exercised great restraint in only lifting one eyebrow.

“That won’t be necessary.” Sam held up the leash. “This isn’t necessary, either.”

The official began walking down the hall. Sam hurried after, lengthening her strides to keep up with the taller woman as they traversed the labyrinth back to the entrance, followed by the four men, their voices silent but chains clinking and rattling. “If you want to keep them in your possession, I strongly recommend you keep them leashed and collared until you depart our territory. Other than at auction, the Precept will not release them if they are rounded up a second time.” She stepped to the side and stretched an arm toward the door to the street.

Sam knew when she was being told to get lost. She nodded, and the five of them exited out into the bright sunshine. Teal’c stayed to the side and behind her, putting him even with O’Neill.

She made sure they were out of sight – and earshot- of the gola before she slowed her pace but kept moving. “I think we need to stay like this until we get closer to the Gate, sir,” she said. “We’ll attract less attention.” They had entered the market, which was still busy. No mistress had three selvas chained together, but Sam did spot one woman who had two men on a leash. She glanced back, and the Colonel gave her a quick nod. “Teal’c, look scary and take point.” She heard a huff of breath, a silent laugh from O’Neill. How many times had the Colonel issued the same order?

Teal’c stepped in front and set a good pace. They hadn’t gone far before she felt pressure on the leash and looked back to see what was going on. The chains between the guys were taut. The giant’s face was a grimace of pain. Now that she wasn’t distracted by seeing her teammates naked, entirely, she noticed the big guy’s right knee was swollen and he was limping badly.

“Teal’c, slow up,” she said softly. “We need to find a cane or crutch for our new friend.”

Teal’c turned his head to see the man at the back of their procession, bowed in acknowledgment, and proceeded at a much slower pace. Sam was anxious to get out of town but tried to balance her desire to rush with the need to not draw attention to themselves.

Jack kept his eyes moving, trying to threat-assess their surroundings, out of habit more than he could actually do much if he saw anything amiss. Chained up like a dog, hands bound behind his back, and no voice thanks to that witch Precept’s silencer stick, the best he’d be able to do is pull back until the leash tugged on Carter. He couldn’t even call out a warning or tap her on the shoulder.

The straps on his leather sandals were cutting into his ankles worse than the manacles now that they were walking, but the mini-skirt was an improvement over starkers. He still felt a breeze on the family jewels as the skirt swished with each step. Give him a sword and shield and he could pretend he was outfitted like a Roman gladiator.

At least he was no longer chilled. They’d been hosed down several times with Arctic water on the clean cycle, sometimes not even having time to completely dry in between. The locker room shower was tepid, the water velocity didn’t try to drown him, and they were given coarse towels for drying off. And now the sun was warm on his face, his naked back and chest.

Teal’c cleared a path for them through the crowded marketplace. So this is what they missed seeing when he and Daniel came through yesterday, unconscious. Guys half naked, slaves to the women. One woman led a boy, couldn’t be more than ten or twelve, by a leash attached to his collar. When he lingered to look at something in one of the stalls, she gave an impatient tug that almost knocked the kid off his feet. Jack had to force his hands to unclench from fists.

He checked on Daniel behind him, who was also looking in every direction, squinting, trying to focus without his glasses. Probably dying to see the architectural details, the cultural influences on dress, not to mention the power structure of this matriarchal society, what could be learned from studying their retail set-up. Yada. But instead of a running commentary – comments, questions and observations - Doctor Jackson was silenced.

Better not be permanent, or Jack was coming back to pay the Precept a visit. With extreme prejudice.

When the dungeon door slid open, he’d never been so happy to see Carter. Surprised at how much of her he saw, but then she hadn’t been able to hide her shock at his, um, being out of uniform. Good thing he was confident in his masculinity, because thanks to the cold shower he had some serious shrinkage going on. However she and Teal’c had figured it out and acquired the outfits and accessories, they blended in with their skimpy attire and her imperious attitude, his submissiveness. And damn if Jack, Daniel, and the giant blended in out here wearing short skirts.

It had taken him a couple seconds to recognize her in this get-up. Heavy makeup, a ton of jewelry, even a belly button ring sparkling under her see-through dress. He knew she was pierced there, had glimpsed a gold belly button ring on P3X-595 when she’d drank the local juice that turned out to pack a punch and she’d started to take off her clothes to join in the dance with the naked natives. When she sobered up and apologized profusely, though the ring wasn’t strictly regulation he’d assured her he didn’t care what she wore under her uniform so long as it didn’t cause a problem. And it was kind of cool knowing his buttoned-up, by-the-book scientist 2IC rocked a belly button ring under her utilitarian unisex uniform.

After what seemed hours but was probably less than one, they had passed the outskirts of town and to the unpaved roads of a farming district. A patrol on foot came up from behind them and slowed down to give them a close look. Jack kept his eyes forward, chin down a little as he’d seen the slaves in the market. Totally cowed, that was him, obedient to his mistress. Nothing to see, move along.

Eventually the patrol resumed their pace and passed them. The women in yellow tunics were a dozen yards ahead of Teal’c before Jack saw Carter’s shoulders slump in relief and she started breathing normally again.

Jack noticed a few nice farmhouses set back from the road, as well as the usual outbuildings like barns. A number of smaller buildings, basically shacks, dotted the edge of the fields. Old guys, dressed like Jack or maybe in a tunic, tended small gardens next to the shacks.

“After they’ve served their mistress for sixty or seventy years,” Carter said softly, “the selvas are allowed to retire to a shack like one of these. If they’re really lucky, their mistress will send food and supplies periodically. Otherwise they’re on their own.”

How enlightened, Jack thought with a snort. Allowing slaves to retire.

Further on they started passing clumps of trees among the fields, and finally Teal’c headed off the road, following a creek uphill to a grove of trees with undergrowth that offered some privacy.

Jack, Daniel, and the giant gratefully sank down onto a fallen log in the dappled shade. Splinters in his ass be damned, he’d been on his feet for about twenty-four hours. Who knows how much longer than that the big guy had been stuck in the dungeon.

After assuring that they probably couldn’t be seen, Carter dropped the leash and dug into the outer pockets of Teal’c’s backpack to retrieve a knife. She handed him the knife, and he dropped the pack and walked behind the log to cut everyone’s hands loose.

Ow, ow, ow. Jack’s muscles were cramping so bad his eyes were watering. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his back, kind of grateful he couldn’t make any sound yet because he was pretty sure he was whimpering. Daniel and the big guy seemed to be experiencing similar painful pins and needles.

Meanwhile, Carter dug into the pack and pulled out canteens, MREs, power bars, and a big honkin’ first aid kit – the size kit when they were expecting battlefield casualties. That had not been with them when they gated here yesterday for a simple six-hour exploration.

Predictably, Daniel handed his canteen to the giant guy without taking a drink. Jack gave an exasperated shake of his head, and handed his canteen to Daniel after taking a long swallow. Carter tried to hand him a power bar, but damn if he could get his fingers to work. He’d needed both hands to hold the canteen steady. She ripped open the wrapper and then gave it back to him, and did the same for Daniel.

“I imagine it’s going to take a while before your manual dexterity returns to normal levels,” Sam said. “Your shoulders must be on fire.”

O’Neill paused in chewing, one cheek puffed full of power bar, and raised one eyebrow at her. She could almost hear his “Ya think?”

“Sorry, sir.” She got busy offering a bar to the giant. He looked suspicious, and she realized it was not only because she was offering him strange food, but she was not acting like a mistress.

Daniel nudged the guy in the ribs, gestured with his own bar, and took a bite and chewed with exaggerated enthusiasm. Well, considering how long since they last ate, probably not exaggerated. The giant accepted the bar and took a cautious bite. And then ate the rest in two big bites, grinning.

She heard a crack of wood, and turned in time to see Teal’c finish breaking off a branch. He walked back toward them, trimming it with the knife.

“We still have about a three or four-hour walk to reach the Gate,” she said. “You’re going to need more sustenance.” She opened an MRE for everyone and poured in water to activate the heater for each of the entrees. “To avoid a problem with patrols, I think we need to maintain the appearance of compliance with the local customs until we go through the gate.”

Daniel nodded. O’Neill rolled his eyes but reluctantly nodded, too.

“Do you want to try to grab some sleep here, sir, or press on? We have blankets. Can’t imagine you guys got much rest last night.”

O’Neill emphatically made the gesture to move out. Daniel yawned but also made the hand gesture to keep going, though with slightly less energy.

Sam nodded. She figured they’d want to get out of Dodge ASAP, but wanted to give them the option. Especially since her commanding officer was a little handicapped at the moment when it came to giving orders. “I don’t think any of us want to walk down the ramp at the SGC in our present attire, so with your permission, sir, I thought we’d gate to P9C-752 first.”

“The planet with the pink trees,” Teal’c said.

“Ah,” O’Neill mouthed. He nodded agreement.

Teal’c offered the crutch to the giant, who stood up – necessitating Daniel and the Colonel also stand – and tested it. The stick promptly snapped in half. They all sat back down, and Teal’c began searching for a bigger branch.

“Yes. That planet is uninhabited, per our last recon, and the forest near the gate will provide some privacy so we can all change. We have spare uniforms for you both.” Sam patted the backpack.

Daniel and the Colonel exchanged relieved looks.

While they waited for the food, Sam got out the Tylenol. “Janet will probably give you muscle relaxers to help you get through the worst of the soreness, but you wouldn’t be able to walk far if you took them now. This is the best we can do.” Daniel nodded and washed the pills down.

She dropped pills into O’Neill’s cupped hand. “Sir! Your wrist!”

He shrugged and popped the pills, then allowed her to grasp his forearm and turn his hand side to side. What she’d thought were bruises from the manacles were actually cuts with dried, crusted blood. One spot already looked inflamed. She grabbed the first aid kit and knelt in front of him, awkwardly pulling her dress up and out the way before she tore the skirt.

“Um, sir, can you, uh…”

He looked down, and punched the fabric of his skirt down between his knees. Thighs. The skirt was so short, it was barely decent when he sat, especially since he didn’t close his legs.

He gave a lopsided shrug and a half-smile. Yeah, neither of them were used to this sort of attire.

Sam cleaned and bandaged his wrists, and had started to put the antibiotic cream away when she noticed similar cuts on his ankles. The straps of his sandals were digging in, making them worse. She gently stretched out his legs, untied his sandals, and took care of his ankles. They had to have been causing him a great deal of pain for him not to have drawn attention to it. He’d been known to complain for fifteen minutes over a splinter, but be stoically silent over something serious. When they were stranded in the Antarctic together, she had splinted his obviously broken leg but he’d said nothing about his broken ribs. She wouldn’t have known about his internal injuries if he hadn’t coughed up blood.

Daniel, fortunately, didn’t need any bandages. He had amazing Technicolor bruises forming on his wrists but hadn’t broken the skin.

The MREs needed a little more time, so she handed out tubes of sunblock and kept one for herself. It wasn’t just embarrassment that was making their cheeks rosy. The guys were getting burned.

That was a lot of skin that needed protecting. Usually they just needed to help each other out with the back of the neck, and maybe inside the neckline a little. Sam stood behind the Colonel and dithered, but in the end she just went ahead and rubbed in the cream, figuring the extra pressure she could apply would help his sore muscles. He slowly dropped his head to his chest as she smoothed the cream into his long, strong back. No snarky comments, no looks, he just let her do it. He must really be hurting.

She did the same for Daniel, who did look at her over his shoulder to smile his appreciation.

Then she finally noticed the giant’s back. “Holy Hannah!” At least a dozen angry red welts crisscrossed his back, some with streaks radiating out, indicating infection. She’d seen the pain sticks, and knew about the branding and silencer sticks, but hadn’t thought the mistresses would whip a slave. She was so naïve.

At her exclamation, Daniel looked. “Ouch,” he mouthed.

Sam looked at the Colonel, blinking back tears. He solemnly nodded. Yes, this is why he’d wanted her to demand the other slave as recompense.

She cleared her throat and took a moment to compose herself, then grabbed the first aid kit and faced the big guy. He was seated and she was standing, and still they were eye to eye. He had green eyes, and thick, unruly dark brown hair that brushed his shoulders. His skin was dark from the sun, with no tan lines, indicating a lifetime of little or no clothing. And his toned, muscular frame had never seen an extra calorie.

“It looks like you have an infection starting on your back in a few places. I don’t know how your physiology might react with our medicine so I don’t dare give you any antibiotics, but I can clean and bandage it.” She gestured toward his back.

He looked confused. Wary.

Understandable, considering what he must have been through recently. Sam looked like a mistress but wasn’t acting like one.

“Will that be alright, um … we don’t even know your name.” She glanced at Daniel and the Colonel. “Do we?”

They both shook their head.

“Uh, how about Jim? Can I call you Jim?” He was as big as a jungle gym. She reached for the antiseptic spray.

“Yes.”

She almost missed the roll of thunder. No, not thunder. Jim had spoken. “What?”

“Yes, Mistress.” His deep voice was raspy, and the sound on every other syllable or so cut out, like a weak radio signal, his paralyzed vocal chords waking up. “Call me Jim.”

Daniel excitedly pointed between his throat and Jim’s.

“The effect of the silencer stick is wearing off,” Teal’c rumbled, trimming the side branches off what looked like a small tree he’d cut down.

Jim nodded. Sam and Teal’c exchanged relieved glances. The Precept had said it would wear off, but she hadn’t fully believed her.

Sam turned back to Jim. “How long did it last?”

He pointed to the sun, swung his hand down toward the ground, and held up three fingers.

“Three sun cycles?”

He nodded again.

Sam started to do the math out loud. “It might last longer on you guys as you have less tissue to absorb the paralyzing shock, and given this planet’s slower rotation around their sun than Earth means longer days, and—“

O’Neill made an impatient rolling motion with his hand.

She coughed. “I estimate about a week. Sir.”

Daniel and the Colonel turned to look at each other, wearing identical expressions of dismay, and in perfect synch mouthed “A week?”

Teal’c offered the naked tree to Jim, who stood, which also forced Daniel and the Colonel up, and tested it. The crutch held his weight. Jim smiled, he and Teal’c exchanged head bows, and the guys all sat back down, the tree crutch resting on the ground beside Jim.

“Maybe less than a week. Jim, how long ago did the Precept use the stick on Daniel and the Colonel?”

“Shortly before you arrived, Mistress.”

Damn. “This morning? Not yesterday?” She looked to the guys for confirmation.

Daniel winced and looked sheepish. O’Neill shrugged.

“Let me guess. You were trying to explain to the Precept that you’re not selvas, you’re not from around here, and she’d made a mistake and should let you go. She got annoyed and zapped you with the silencer stick.”

“Essentially,” Daniel mouthed.

“At which point you,” she turned to her CO, “thought she had injured him, got angry and told her off, and she zapped you, too.”

O’Neill stuck his chin out.

Sam leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Is that when you peed on her, sir?”

“She had it coming,” he mouthed.

Okay, she needed to get the visual of **_that_ **scene out of her head. She went back down the line to the giant. “You don’t have to go by Jim. You had a name before, right? What would you like us to call you?”

“Jim.” Sam started to protest, but he continued. “Previous mistress gave me a name, but she was mean. I like you. I like the name you gave me.”

There were more syllables but that was the gist of it. “Okay, then. Nice to meet you, Jim.” She gestured with the antiseptic still in her hand. “I’m just going to, uh, do what I can for your back. Teal’c, would you check the entrees?”

“As you wish, Lady Saman’tha.”

She gave him a sharp look. One eyebrow and one side of his mouth lifted.

“Very funny.”

He inclined his head.

Sam went to work on Jim’s back. “These look a few days, um, sun cycles, old. Did the Precept do this to you?”

He gave a slight shake. “My previous mistress was angered when I slipped and hurt my knee.”

“But if the silencer stick was used on you three sun cycles ago, that means…”

“Mistress did not like the sounds I made when she used the flogger.”

Holy Hannah.

With a clink of chains, Daniel turned toward Jim and put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed.

“We’ll take you home with us, Jim, and let our doctors see what they can do to help your knee. And your back. And then we’ll see about settling you somewhere you can be free. Or do you want to stay here? Do you have friends or loved ones?”

He looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes wide with shock. “I have a choice? But I belong to you now. You are my mistress.”

Sam tore off strips of tape to hold a gauze pad in place. “You are free, Jim. No longer a selva. Where we come from, we don’t keep people as slaves. I’m not a mistress. Colonel O’Neill is our team leader, not me.”

O’Neill leaned forward and gave Jim a jaunty two-fingered wave.

Jim took the space of several breaths to absorb the change to his worldview. “I thought he was a First Selva. Leader of your selvas.” He nodded, confident in his assessment. “Protective.”

“Yes, our leader is protective.” Sam couldn’t help smiling. “Some might even say mother hen-ish.”

O’Neill leaned back to give her a narrow-eyed stare. She stared back, unflinching. He shrugged, conceding the point. He had been known to be a tad overprotective now and then, especially when it came to their civilian archeologist.

“Did your First Selva try to protect you from the flogging? It’s not your fault you fell and hurt your knee.”

“Mistress silenced him.”

Sam’s mouth fell open in shock.

Teal’c spoke. “She killed him?”

Jim shook his head. “If the silencer stick is applied too often, or too close together, the effect is permanent.”

Daniel and O’Neill paused in applying their sunblock to look at each other, and then her.

Yeah. Dodged a bullet there.

By the time she finished with Jim’s back, Teal’c was handing out the hot entrees and the rest of the meals. He spread a kerchief on a rock for her to sit on, and the four of them began their usual trading – this powdered drink for that one, this cookie for those crackers, and swapping desserts. No one got between the Colonel and the apple blueberry crisp. Despite Daniel’s love of chocolate, he usually let Sam have the brownie and she let him have the chocolate chip cookies. And they always let Teal'c have the jalapeño cheese spread.

They had beef brisket and chicken pot pie and other meats. No chili. Every month Sam slipped the supply sergeant a fifty to ensure SG-1 never, ever got beans again. So far the guys hadn’t noticed, or at least hadn’t commented. Team closeness was one thing, but there were some things a team just shouldn’t share.

They made sure Jim had at least one of everything that came with a meal and showed him how to put it together, and they dug in. After hardly eating this morning, the butterflies had vacated the premises and Sam was starving.

Everything was going well until Daniel leaned down to set something by his foot just as O’Neill sat back up, the chain on their collars went taut, and they almost strangled each other.

Sam hurriedly fished the key the official had given her out of her bandeau. “I think it’s safe to take off the chains. At least until we start walking again.”

“The patrols will not bother you,” Jim said. “Even without the chains.”

Sam unlocked the chain from O’Neill’s collar to Daniel’s. There was a second lock on each collar that prevented the selva from removing his leather restraint.

Teal’c stopped in the middle of spreading cheese on his cracker. “How can you be certain?”

Jim tapped his collar. “Bears the mark of the Precept. Patrols will know you are coming from the Lost and Found.”

O’Neill put four fingertips under the front edge of his collar and flicked them out in a gesture that many cultures would consider a rude comment. His angry expression confirmed her interpretation.

Now she realized the yellow stitching on the black leather collars wasn’t just decorative, it was a form of a mistress mark. Come to think of it, none of the other collars she’d seen were black.

She was standing between Daniel and the Colonel, having dropped the chain to the ground. O’Neill tapped her wrist to get her attention.

“Dog pound?” he clearly enunciated, though he was still silent.

She flushed. “Drayad, the retired slave who helped us, explained the patrol that abducted you picked up any lost or runaway selvas, and I may have, um, used the term ‘dog catchers’ when I was explaining to General Hammond and Janet what was going on.”

“Woof,” Daniel mouthed at her.

Sam patted his head. “Good doggie.”

He mock growled at her, teeth bared.

Good to know he wasn’t too traumatized by the last thirty-six hours. Sam unlocked the last chain, freeing Daniel from Jim, and resumed her meal. She was just biting into her brownie when Teal’c spoke.

“It is fortunate you are so familiar with the bodies of O’Neill and DanielJackson.”

Sam choked. Daniel and the Colonel froze, sporks full of food halfway to their mouths. They glanced at each other, then turned their gaze on her. O’Neill cocked his head to one side and raised one eyebrow in a silent question.

“It’s not— I don’t— Um.” Sam took a long drag from her canteen, grateful for the flavor from the iced tea mix that came with her MRE. “I simply know their medical histories.” She turned to Teal’c. “As do you.” She faced the guys again. “We all know about Daniel’s appendicitis scar, though he doesn’t want us to see it.”

Even now, Daniel was holding his right elbow protectively close to his stomach, hiding the scar. He looked at his arm in surprise, then across to her, his face flushed.

“You were off-planet with General Hammond when Daniel was shot in the leg with a staff weapon by one of General Trofsky’s Jaffa, when we were trying to escape Hathor,” she told Teal’c. “And sir, you were in the cryogenic chamber when Daniel was shot.”

O’Neill shuddered. Yeah, memories best forgotten.

Sam turned back to Teal’c. “The colonel took a staff weapon blast to the leg from one of the guards when we were on Netu. You were in the scout ship with Aldwin when it happened.”

“Sokar’s hell planet.”

“Yes.”

“Then the Precept was correct. They are old wounds.”

Sam shrugged. O’Neill was still looking at her expectantly.

Right. His old scars. She took another drink. “Sir, we all know you’ve had a number of injuries over your career. I figured the surgical scars from your knee and elbow reconstructions, and lower back would look similar enough to look like a brand.” She brightened. “I considered using the scar on your right bicep from when Tonane shot an arrow through the Gate and hit you, but was worried the Precept would think it looked too much like a random scar, like the staff blast.” She decided not to mention the scar on his chest – from surgery to repair internal injuries after their trip to Antarctica - as his chest hair had grown back and concealed it. Mostly.

O’Neil examined the scar in question on his arm, and silently agreed.

Sam took a deep breath of relief, and went back to enjoying her brownie. The guys all resumed eating. Every now and then someone would shift and their skirt would pull up, inadvertently flashing the family jewels. Even Teal’c had gone native and foregone his boxers under his tunic, which she discovered by accident after he reached for the salt and then sat back. Sam simply averted her gaze, and tried not to be too obvious when she adjusted her bandeau, which felt like it was slipping down so far the girls were in danger of popping out.

In a few minutes they’d head out, gate to the planet with pink trees and change back into uniforms, then head home to the SGC, everyone safe. It had been another typical mission for SG-1 – they gated in, got in trouble, got out of trouble, and were going home. They were a close team, much closer than other teams she’d served on. They didn’t have many secrets from each other. And after this mission, they had even fewer.

Taking a break to eat an MRE on a mission was a mundane occurrence. They’d done this together hundreds, if not thousands, of times. But as Sam listened to the crackle of plastic packaging, the sounds of eating, heard the creek burble nearby, and saw how the breeze in the tree boughs made the sun dance in the dappled shade, she felt tears well up.

What the hell?

She cleared her throat, pushing tears back down. Her hands were suddenly trembling.

The rational part of her mind recognized delayed reaction setting in. Over the last thirty-six hours the team had been separated, half of them not knowing where the other half was, what condition they were in, how much danger they were actually in. And now they were back together. Safe. 

In the grand scheme of things, this one hadn’t been that bad. No one was seriously injured, and they’d soon get over the various blows to their dignity. Maybe someday they’d even be able to laugh about it.

The irrational part of her wanted to bawl.

Daniel suddenly stood next to her and gently tugged her to her feet, his big hand clasped around her forearm, her bracelets jingling. She closed her eyes, her vision blurred from unshed tears, as strong arms wrapped around her, from Daniel as well as the Colonel. She wrapped an arm around each of them, so strong and solid and _**there**_ , and wished she had another arm when she felt Teal’c join the group hug. Wordlessly they shifted and made it a four-way hug, something she couldn’t recall them ever doing before but she wanted to happen again and again. Just without all the stress leading up to it first, thank you.

They held on to each other, their breathing gradually syncing up. Daniel had once shared research with her that showed a hug needed to last at least one full minute to get the health benefits from the embrace, and that the word hug came from an Old Norse word that meant to comfort. That was way back, early enough in their association that at first she thought he was just a guy trying to cop a feel, but she quickly realized he genuinely cared about her and was simply offering comfort to a friend he thought needed it but would resist accepting it. The last time she could remember Colonel O’Neill hugging her, she’d been nearly hysterical upon realizing they’d left Daniel behind on Nem’s planet, alive, after thinking he’d died in a pool of lava. O’Neill’s embrace was warm, firm, and reassuring. They’d got Daniel back, just as the colonel had promised. They were here together, and all was right in her world.

She breathed deep, inhaling the scent of tropical sunscreen and masculine teammates. Her heart started to slow and she shook less. Tears slipped down her cheeks but she didn’t care.

The earth moved. No, it was Jim, joining them. He wrapped his arms around them all like a massive defensive lineman wrapping up the entire backfield, but instead of peeling them off until he got to the one holding the football, he held on and laid his head atop O’Neill’s, a beatific smile on his face. “Protect,” he rumbled.

O’Neill rolled his eyes, but then gave a little shrug and reached up to pat Jim on the head.

Teal’c and Daniel smiled.

Sam sniffed and chuckled and tightened her hold on her guys. “Yes. We protect each other.”


End file.
